


Vampire Killer, Vampire Master

by doyoushipwhoiship



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Guillermo and Nandor trying to have a serious conversation, M/M, S2E7 The Return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doyoushipwhoiship/pseuds/doyoushipwhoiship
Summary: Amid the events of S2E7 The Return, Nandor and Guillermo try to negotiate their new dynamic.
Relationships: Guillermo/Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows TV)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 165





	Vampire Killer, Vampire Master

**Author's Note:**

> 🖤 This is for Lan and all the lovelies on Discord 🖤

“Guillermo, they’re not going to find out about it.”

“Really.” Guillermo is cleaning the floor in the foyer. He’s already swept up the dust angel of Carol, already taken the rug outside and beaten any remaining dirt out of it. He’s scrubbed the wooden planks beneath with hot soapy water and a rag, but every time he steps past the banister, he’s reminded of what happened just a few hours before.

“You have a smudge of dust on your face.” Nandor briefly changes the subject, raising his hand somewhat to indicate the smudge.

Guillermo frowns. “Yeah, I _inhaled_ Carol.”

Nandor bares his fangs. “ _Yeeech_.”

“Master.”

“What?” The vampire is listening carefully for any signs of Nadja, Laszlo, and their guests. Nandor only woke up a handful of minutes ago and is still dressed in his getup from yesterday, fur vest and gold scarf and all.

Guillermo is timid. “Do you really think they won’t…?”

“Not here.” Nandor cuts him off. “In my room.”

The coffin is still open and Nandor has at least tried to throw together an outfit for the coming evening. He’s folded a pair of black trousers over a chair and his red leather smock is half in the bureau, half out. “Were you…trying to dress yourself, Master?” Guillermo is mildly amused.

It is Nandor’s turn to frown. “Well. You were busy cleaning, you had so much to clean because of, you know, _Carol_ ,” he hisses the name like it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Amusement fades, and in its place a bloom of warmth unfurls in Guillermo’s stomach. “Master…”

“Come. Sit down.”

The cameras follow them to the couch by the door where Nandor likes to sit when having Serious Thoughts or conducting Serious Business like calling out to City Council members through the ether.

“Guillermo,” he says. He sits, at first, far apart from his familiar, then edges closer. He stares at the man’s face, admires the wide dark eyes that regard him behind those characteristic round glasses, and he realizes how wrong he was, telling the camera crew last year that his familiar was “a little _too_ familiar,” because of course he wasn’t. It was an absolute comfort, having him so close.

“Yes?” The bloom of warmth is spreading from his stomach to his chest.

Nandor shifts his gaze to Guillermo’s hands, clasped in his lap, and suddenly, as if he must do it quickly before he can think twice about doing it, he reaches forward and takes the man’s hand’s in his own.

Guillermo gives a gentle gasp as his fingers are pulled apart and held by Nandor, who seems as hesitant as Guillermo has ever seen him.

“I know you didn’t mean to do it,” he says. “You were scared. And I am proud of you for defending yourself.”

“Really, Master?” Guillermo’s throat tightens, as does his grip on Nandor’s hands. They’re cold and he imagines that he’s warming them. He likes the thought of keeping Nandor warm.

“Yes. And we will tell _no one_. Do you understand?”

_We._

Guillermo nods. “Yes, y-yes. No one. I promise.”

“Good.” All at once, Nandor lets him go. “Now, I got out the red one,” he points to his smock, “but I’m not sure which cloak to wear…”

***

It’s nearly sunrise when they return to Nandor’s room, free of Simon the (Clearly Very) Devious. Nandor is overly wary of his familiar, continuing the apprehensive pattern from the sewer tunnels. When Guillermo reaches up to help Nandor out of his cloak, Nandor flinches. It happens again when Nandor sits on the couch by the door and Guillermo removes his boots. This time, the fangs come out and he hisses quietly.

Guillermo’s patience wears thin. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he snaps.

“I can defend myself,” Nandor emphasizes, not looking at him. “People forget how skilled of a warrior I was, how relentless…”

The familiar flashes a look at the camera that says _It’s not that they forget. They’re not alive to remember._

“…women feared me. Men ran from me, shrieking like little girls…”

Guillermo distracts Nandor from his storytelling by reaching up to his master’s throat and unfastening his collar. Nandor stiffens, fangs still threatening to peek past his lips. “ _Guillermo_ ,” he says, low. He makes brief eye contact with the camera crew, as though warning them _If anything happens to me, you’d better get it on film._

“Look.” Guillermo sits beside him, abandoning the many clasps of Nandor’s complicated military garb. “You can’t go running around telling people I don’t kill vampires.”

“But—that’s what we want them to believe.”

“Yes, but it’s a little ‘on the nose,’ don’t you think?” Guillermo laughs softly, hoping Nandor will do the same. But all Nandor does is stare at him, bemused. “Okay…” He throws a _Here we go_ glance to the camera before turning and reaching for Nandor’s hands.

“Ayy _yyy_. What do you think you’re doing!”

“Master. Listen.”

“How do you expect me to listen to you when you’re holding my hands! It’s distracting!”

“I’m sorry.” He lets go, separating their hands. “Could you just…humor me.”

“I don’t like your sense of humor.”

“ _Please_.”

Nandor flicks his eyes at the camera and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Yes, all right.” Without warning, he reaches for Guillermo’s hands.

Guillermo wants to roll his own eyes but holds back. As long as he gets to hold Nandor’s hands, that’s all that matters. “All right,” he says. “If you were planning an attack on a village and you didn’t want the villagers to know about it, would you go to the village and say ‘Oh, hi, I’m totally not going to pillage you tomorrow’?”

Nandor frowns. “No—”

“Exactly—”

“I wouldn’t say _hi_ , we didn’t say _hi_. I don’t think _hi_ even existed in the thirteenth century…”

“Well, you wouldn’t say it like that, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Nandor nods wisely.

“But do you see my point? Why would you tell them you’re not going to attack when you could say nothing?”

“It…would probably be better to say nothing. Catch them completely by surprise?” Nandor asks this like he’s a student in a class and doesn’t know exactly what answer the instructor is looking for.

“ _Yes_.” Glance to the camera: _He gets my point_.

“So, you are insinuating that I should _not_ insist that you are _not_ a vampire killer?”

“Yes.” Guillermo squeezes his hands. “Exactly. By saying that, you’d be endangering both of us, and I want to protect you.”

“You? Protect me?”

” _Dios mio_ ,” mutters Guillermo.

“You’re speaking in tongues again.”

He ignores that. “Master, I want to stay with you. For as long as possible. But I can’t do that…I can’t protect you…if you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Hey!”

Guillermo realizes he’s overstepped. “I’m s—”

“It is not for you to tell me to be quiet. It is for me to tell _you_.”

“I know.”

“Is this what it’s going to be like now? Hmm? Vampire killer and his vampire master? Telling his master to shut up whenever he pleases, just because he could kill him? Hmm?”

“N-no, Master.” Guillermo is blushing.

“All right.” Nandor squints at him. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Nandor looks down at their hands. On a whim, he fidgets, running the pads of his thumbs across Guillermo’s knuckles. “You have very soft hands for a vampire killer,” he mumbles.

Guillermo’s heart is racing. He doesn’t know what to say to that, or what to do, so he looks for an escape from the conversation. “It’s morning,” he says, pulling his hands away abruptly and pointing to the sliver of sunlight coming in from beneath the curtains. “Time for bed.”


End file.
